Joined: Tue Jul 22, 2008 3:32 amPosts: 485Location: The eye of every storm in this game apparently.

I know you've read a few battles on here. Feel free to have fun with it and read the rules I'm going to through up carefully. ___________________

Quote:

-Battles are fought in turns, you post after a respond.-Fighting happens in "real time" meaning you can if you wish go back in time a little to describe actions and things you do before any attack of the opposition lands (within reasonability)-Be as descriptive as you can. More information makes for better battles.-Do not ever control your opponent's character (or pets) in any way.-Characters are, typically, allowed two actions per post: One defensive action and one offensive action. Regardless of whether you were attacked or not, you may only attack once per post.-You can only use 1 special/spell per turn (you can use multiple skills per turn, and 1 special and multiple skills per turn though). Specials that have an effect on your opponent count towards your one offensive action.-Try to be fair in both your attacks as well as your dodges. Getting hit every now and then is not the end of the world, and deepens your character.-A minimum of 2 paragraphs (though more are desirable!)-No 'Unblockable' attacks. There's always something, somewhere that can happen.-Be creative, use the world around you to your advantage!-Use a spell checker, or a program that helps with puncuation. It can't hurt... and can generally help your posts more readable.-Have fun!!! Battles are supposed to be enjoyable. If don't like it, something is wrong.

The prince had been outraged his last apprentice had turned tail and run. All that big talk and the man hadn't been able to finish what he'd started all to common these days. The drow had been detoured into the Torans mountain range and at this point he was tired of wondering if he wake up in a bear. His thoughts lost as he heard the old man call him once more. What are you doing fooling around in the caves boy? I contacted you a week ago you're late for you next training attempt; you can't fail me this time.

Glaring into the night Morgoth mutter a couple course packed up his tent and continued his trek back north. Finally making his way out of the grotto and back into the plains. He signed as he saw a simple dojo not twenty paces from his current location. It's been to long since I've seen this place, I was brought here many years ago to train under a mighty magus. I failed him as I failed my apprentice I can't keep doing this or I'll be force to fight for my place. Though he was hesitent to return to this place he also notice they'd neatly cleaned this house of chard wood. Knowing where to look there were still some signs of his past encounter.

Bowing his head he untied his boots as custom dictated and then unbuckled his sword rather than waiting for the grumpy Psionicist to take it. Nostalgia hit as he saw the weapons rack along the rear wall he drop his weapon in it's worn wall holster and picked up another rough practice weapon.

I was so late I was early old man? How does that even make sense?

Don't be insolent boy your charge just happened to be later than you. That doesn't give you the right to sass me. In fact, *with a flick of his wrist, Morgoth flew against the right wall* That'll sort you out. Now remember don't kill the boy he's a little out there.

Fine whatever, Just stop with the Mind games . Morgoth muttered with a snicker. He felt the pressure on his chest again and was un-cerimouniously thrown face first into the ground. Dazed and thoroughly convinced the Psionicist was the forbidden one himself. He stood up and did some breathing and stretching, waiting patiently for his charge.

The young drow had arrived just after sunrise the sky the most amazing shade of powder blue as the sun rose repealing the shadow's. This hardly being the ideal time for the drow to fight he knew he'd have to keep his new charge inside or move him to the caves. He'd have trouble if the new stripling was as strong as the last simple because he always seem to be fighting the mages these days. There wasn't a day gone by where he turns a corner and didn't have to fight a mage. His entire trip was mage after mage telling him he can't or shouldn't travel this way, "Better to travel to the after life," they said. "Better off hiding in the caves," they laughed but Morgoth had the last laugh on more than one occasion. Calm sounds of morning all around him as he sat with his thoughts.

As he shifted his view back to the door he also noticed someone had open all of the windows for him and the old man was out of sight again. Probably hiding on a different plan waiting, watching like the omnipotent little. His train of thought cut off as his head was lightly pushed against the wall... again. Naughty naughty, I told you not to get snippy with me boy. He can read my thoughts; God what can't this man do? That's for me to know and for you to never figure out. The drow could hear him cackle as the voice faded from his head once more.

_________________A perfect storm of action and reaction no thought no will can stop his dream.Myrie, of the night

A lone wanderer traversed the labyrinthine landscape of the Torans Mountains. He appeared at first glance a man, but upon further inspection it was clear that no ordinary man was he, for his head took the form of a turtle rather than that of a human. A blue-greenish reptilian head, littered with green flecks, and eyes that seemed unnaturally blue. He, it, searched endlessly, wandering seemingly at random. He would stop occasionally, as if annoyed, and look at the sky as if for guidance. Finally, at long last, he found what appeared to be a home.

The sun had just begun to rise, so it was difficult to make out what the building may be. The morning sun reflected off of the roofing in such a way that the sky seemed to be pierced by a perfect beam of light, parting the sky and repelling the darkness that had previously gripped the night.

Alone this creature was not, for within him was several other inhuman intellects, each distinct and each alive. They spoke to each other, mind to mind rather than face to face:

What do you suppose this place may be?Does it matter, fool? Take us inside, and let those within know whom they are dealing with.You mustn’t be so reckless, Bartgeier. That is the kind of thinking that will end us all, and I know that isn’t what you want.Do you really believe any mortal could pose a threat to us? Have you really become that disillusioned? We are Gods, and the mortal realm is ours to claim, so let us claim it.Yes! If we take no initiative than we shall perish! Is that really what you want, Archelon? Is that your plan? Take us all down just to save your puny humans? Bah!Quiet! I can’t stand any more of this bickering! Let’s just get on with it.Yes, let’s.

A shake of the head and the man-creature was once again moving. He started slowly for the building, which appeared a rather plain one story house. There were several windows that allowed a slight breeze to enter the single room of the building. Littering the walls were small lanterns, lighting the room suitably. Along each wall were metal devices that held a massive amount of weapons, ranging from staves to large axes, though they were all made of wood and therefore were likely to be ineffective in an actual fight. The floor was a hard wood, beautifully gleaming from candlelight.

An arena! This is what I’ve been craving; allow me to annihilate all those that enter the ring, allow me to gather a legion by force! This is how it begins, a small step towards becoming powerful again.I don’t think that this is an arena; where is the seating? Don’t be so quick. Who are you trying to impress, hmm? I find that it would serve us better to begin our journey on the right foot. Let us find a real city, somewhere with some girth, to lay our seed. Perhaps someone here will be able to assist us.

A turn of the head and Archelon spotted a figure; a dark spot against the light. He was equipped with armor that concealed some of his features and highlighted others. Dark armor highlighted with crimson, a tribute no doubt to that oh so valuable liquid held within near all things mortal. His skin melded almost completely with his armor, a deep black that seemed to demand light to absorb.

“Allow me to introduce myself, friend. My name is Archelon, and I don’t suppose you could help a fellow out, could you? I seem to have found myself lost within this wretched mountain range, and I need desperately to find my way to a town or city of sorts. Could you point me in the right direction?”

As he spoke he slowly approached the man, noticing that he wasn’t a man at all but something else altogether. At first it seemed the man just had dark skin, but as they drew nearer the Gods noticed that he had intensely silver hair, a trait that was almost never found in any of the humans they had ever seen.

Interesting. What manner of creature is this, an imitation of man, or something completely different?In time I may ask, but for now I must keep my priorities straight. With all of these weapons lying about there is no knowing what despicable acts are held in this place.

Archelon stopped walking towards the not-man and held his ground about thirty paces away. He leaned against his walking staff gently, casually, as to not stir an outwardly aggressive response from this creature. He knew that if it did come down to it, Bartgeier would not hesitate to destroy this creature.

He hoped it didn’t have to end that way. Bartgeier hoped that it did.

(Thanks for the training! I'm not entirely sure whether I should be the one initiating combat or if I can reciprocate. Also, I figure it color coding should be enough indication of thought-dialog, or should I find another way of marking it?)

Joined: Tue Jul 22, 2008 3:32 amPosts: 485Location: The eye of every storm in this game apparently.

Your formatting is perfect. I tend to italicize thoughts but my character is a single entity. Your an very good writer, just reread your post like one more time to catch where it's choppier. But, great first post. You'll be able to open the hostilities after this post. __________

“Allow me to introduce myself, friend. My name is Archelon, and I don’t suppose you could help a fellow out, could you? I seem to have found myself lost within this wretched mountain range, and I need desperately to find my way to a town or city of sorts. Could you point me in the right direction?”

Noticing the door slide open and his new charge enter the drow glances around for that cursed psioncist. As he looked his confusion turned to confirmation. He wasn't coming this time unless this man also disregarded common courtesy. Of listening to his simple instructions before assailing him.

I am Morgoth Shyne, Prince of the Underdark. I am a Night elf more commonly know as the Drows. I'm what's standing between you and the knowledge you seek. However as I'm merely assessing your skills. I normally ask those being trained to take a facsimileing of their favorite weapon in wood format yours is a staff so unless your staff has some great secret I doubt I'll have to ask you to exchanged it for a different piece of wood.

His long winded speech out of the way he tightened the red straps of his armor. Pulling his katana up into a defensive stance. He eye'd the new rival wearily before speaking once more. Without further thought he breathed evenly and returned to speech, " Your probably wondering which of us acts first as I've adopted a purely defensive stance. You can take your best guess as to who I expect to make the first move."

A breeze ran through the window ruffling the drow's long silver hair. His steely eye's locked on this other man. He also looked different. He could put his finger on it but like Kole's aura had changed once he'd given in to whatever demon lent him that mana. This man had multiple entities his face was like that of a reflection ever changing and yet always the same.

This man could very easily be the most danger he'd be required to train. He was a weary human not one to jump immediately into the fray. This reminded him of infineon who if he remembered properly had been quite the caster. So that's just anther ill omen to add to his list. The man was definitely a caster his attire and reluctance to initiate combat suggested that all to well.

_________________A perfect storm of action and reaction no thought no will can stop his dream.Myrie, of the night

"I am Morgoth Shyne, Prince of the Underdark. I am a Night elf more commonly know as the Drows. I'm what's standing between you and the knowledge you seek. However as I'm merely assessing your skills. I normally ask those being trained to take a facsimileing of their favorite weapon in wood format yours is a staff so unless your staff has some great secret I doubt I'll have to ask you to exchanged it for a different piece of wood."

A test? He is testing Us? Ha!

"Your probably wondering which of us acts first as I've adopted a purely defensive stance. You can take your best guess as to who I expect to make the first move."

As perplexed a look as could possibly befall a turtle gripped Archelon. It would appear that he would be unable to avoid conflict, much to his dismay. Tightening his grip and leaning less on his walking stick, Archelon looked down at his very human hands.

Is this the fate of all men, eternally destined to fight and destroy one another? Perhaps, but if we do not pass this ‘test’ we may never have a chance to perhaps steer them along a better path.True enough. I’ll have you know, though, that I am not an expert at combat; doubly so in this foreign body.Then you must allow me to fight him. Regardless of current conditions I will not allow this man to stand in our way.No. You may be more proficient in the combat arts than I, but I refuse to allow you to taint our first impression upon the outside world.First impression? We may not have any more ‘impressions’ if we allow you to continue to fight.I understand, but I cannot trust you with our fate, nor can I trust the others to keep you from becoming involved.Bah!

Raising his eyes to meet the intense stare of Morgoth, Archelon took a long breath before allowing himself to speak once again.

“I see. So be it. Know this, though; by the end of this session it will not be I who has been tested.”

Archelon noted that his challenger had raised his blade in such a way that would allow for easy counters to attacks. It was nearly an impossibility for a clumsy attack from a simple club being wielded by an equally simple attacker to land. What choice was there, though? He was as of yet unable to call upon the forces of the ocean as he once was able. If he was unable to actually land a blow, he may as well test the reactions of the opponent; how would he react to an attack thrown by someone who was barely able to contemplate assaulting a man? After a few moments of deliberation, Archelon decided on a plan of action.

Don’t do that! Never take your opponent as a fool. Are you trying to kill us?

Archelon shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the insidious thoughts that perforated his confidence. His plan had many variables, a majority of which hinged on his foe to reserve himself for the sake of this ‘test’. Would the man kill him for making one mistake?

I’m warning you, Archelon. If you manage to destroy our only hope of becoming powerful again I will make your life a living hell. You will be eternally trapped with the one person who truly knows you, and truly hates you.

Archelon began his approach with a light jog. He changed the position of his staff, now holding it with both hands across his chest from hip to shoulder. His heart rate increased, his breathing became erratic, and his focus was unrivaled. He was no longer able to hear the heckling of the others. At first he believed he was tuning them out, but after a moment realized that he couldn’t hear them if he tried. A small grin, at least that is what it appeared to be, showed itself.

Nearly to his adversary, Archelon noticed some peculiar physical reactions that he had never experienced before. Adrenaline was kicking in; he was nearly unable to feel the slight trembling of his hands or the strong thumping of his shoes upon the floor. Is this the feeling that humans crave so desperately? Is this why they find themselves unable to stop, why things always seem to escalate out of control?

A bit further than an arm’s length away he stopped in his tracks. He set his feet in such a way that allowed him to take one more extended step, and allowed his staff to take up residence in his right hand, nearly choked to the edge. He took his last long step and extended his arm quickly, loosening his grip a bit to allow the staff to slide out in an attempt at a thrusting attack, gripping it tightly again once it reached its maximum length. If everything went according to ‘plan’, the staff would hit the opponent in the right shoulder, possibly throwing them off balance and making a counter attack difficult.

The others did not approve.

Such a weak attempt at an attack? What does he hope to achieve?He hopes that we experience a quick death. At least he is considerate of others in that regard.I will not allow this pitiful attempt at combat continue any further. Archelon’s stubbornness will not be the end of me!

Joined: Tue Jul 22, 2008 3:32 amPosts: 485Location: The eye of every storm in this game apparently.

“I see. So be it. Know this, though; by the end of this session it will not be I who has been tested.”

The thoughts ran through his mind and he decided to be calculating and really test this humans skills. Morgoth saw the straight forward jab coming a mile away. He simply side stepped allowing the staff to slide harmlessly passed. The drow decided to respond in kind to this silly charge. Bring his pho-blade up quickly and swinging a diagonal slash parallel over his foe’s staff.

This simple attack would challenge the man’s mind more than his reflexes. For all he’d really have to do is raise his weapon another couple inches forcing Morgoth to abandon his strike or drop his weapon. Few would think of this in the spur of the moment however so it’s a good exercise if one of potential futility.

The slash was a quick swing due to the distance between them and aimed low on the opponents head making ducking a poor choice. Swinging in a just about jaw level the blow would be very disorienting if dodged improperly. Making this first attack a very valid test of martial prowess; however should this blow have been just a feint Morgoth may very well be eating a spell.

“You’re too predictable my young friend. Although lulling me into a false sense of confidence isn’t a bad or unheard of ploy in these tests. I’ve found that fear of failure is the best motivator. So if you don’t show me some talent soon I’ll be forced to take action.”

His simple taunt would hopefully be enough to pull this caster out of his shell. He needed the man to use his talent so he could judge his skills properly. Don’t be so rough on the this one, you’ll find that there is more than one way he can make you regret those words boy The crotchety old man had fiddled with his thoughts again. Invading his mind and violated his inner most thoughts again. Okay old man but seriously stay out of my head, I can’t deal with my own thoughts never mind someone else’s.

_________________A perfect storm of action and reaction no thought no will can stop his dream.Myrie, of the night

Perhaps a more elaborate attack would have yielded more interesting results, but Morgoth chose likely the least interesting of options. A swift sidestep caused Archelon's attack to miss entirely, bludgeoning nothing but the air into submission. A sense of disappointment swept over Archelon, but a simultaneous joy rushed through him. He took the bait! Now I must simply react to the riposte-

Gah!

An intense pressure took up immediate residence within Archelon's head. In an instant he knew what had caused this familiar pain, and in an instant the pain was gone. Once again he heard the familiar cacophony of voices:

Wonderful. Please watch as someone who actually understands what they’re doing works.Why would he do that, especially at a time like this? The man had even fallen into the trap I laid!Regardless of success or not, as long as you were in control the trap was worthless. You didn’t even know what to do with the opportunity you presented yourself with.

The turmoil that was taking place on the inside mimicked a chaos that was taking place outwardly. As the deities conversed an interesting physical change took place; a small, heat-less flame appeared at the top of the reptilian head of Archelon. It swelled outwards, creating a ring that slowly rotated as it rapidly descended towards the floor, surrounding the scaly face. The scales the flame passed appeared to melt away, dripping at such a rate that if viewed from the right perspective one may have mistaken it for the dripping of rain. The liquefied scales disappeared shortly after leaving Archelon’s head — or was it even Archelon anymore?

Melted flesh gave way to reveal crimson feathers that shook and rustled their way into reality, though it would be hard to argue that they themselves were real at all. Once the flame had passed what was once a mouth, a large beak appeared, making itself known:

"At last!"

After descending past the neck the flame disappeared, the whole ordeal lasting no more than a second. Now the most important thing was the opposition’s attack. With his still outstretched arm our new controller flicked his hand upwards to deflect the blow. The blade was redirected with a loud thunk, while a chunk of wood flew from the staff. The weapon was flung upwards, diagonally over the newly formed avian head that had replaced Archelon’s. One wild eye settled on Morgoth as he spoke.

“You’re too predictable my young friend. Although lulling me into a false sense of confidence isn’t a bad or unheard of ploy in these tests. I’ve found that fear of failure is the best motivator. So if you don’t show me some talent soon I’ll be forced to take action.”

“I am Bartgeier,” a rather highly pitched voice emanated from the beak of the bird. “Young?” A small orb of flame revealed itself in the left hand of the speaker, "I am older than you could comprehend."

The orb grew rapidly in size, becoming the size of a fist and glowing ever more that wonderful shade of red-orange. Bartgeier lobbed the orb towards Morgoth, initially starting at chest height. The trajectory of the object made it settle lower, closer to the abdomen. Bartgeier clutched his left hand shut; the orb stopped for a half-second, and glowed more intensely than it had previously. After this half-second, the orb detonated, showering a rather wide area in flame and ember. With the explosion being so near there was no hope but for some of the flame to reach Bartgeier. Initially with a look of optimism, outstretching his arm to grasp the fire, Bartgeier quickly realized the mistake he had made. The embers nestled in his hands, and a sharp pain flared up in response. He took his arm back quickly, flicking his hand a bit to clear it of the embers.

The flame dares to lick me? How could this be?

Bartgeier resumed his gazing towards the opponent, head cocked to the left, waiting for his response to the fire.

How could he possibly still have control over the flame? He lost all of his powers when we did.Word travels fast. I’m sure when other villages heard of the destruction he caused they themselves became fearful. In their fear, there was the belief that he did, in fact, exist. Therefore, he still has believers, and still maintains some power.How could they remember his name, but not mine?! I was there for the battle, I destroyed just as many lives!You were but a pawn, whereas Bartgeier was the king.Bah…